Coming Around
by CatsbytheGreat
Summary: A.U. Susan, Peter, and Edmund are left behind after the train crash that took their family and friends. Except Edmund isn't the same, and living in the wake of disaster isn't easy.
1. Beginning

**Disclaimer: I am not C.S. Lewis, and therefore I do not own anything recognisable. **

**Author's Note: It's the beginnings of a multi-chapter story, and it's Alternate Universe after (during?) The Last Battle. This is my first dive into fleshing out an A.U. story (although it isn't my first A.U. story). I hope you enjoy this first chapter!  
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Edmund was shocked when Peter shoved the small package into his hands.

"Take it," he said, with some sense of urgency. "I'll meet you all there."

"There's no sense in taking two cars," Edmund protested. "Come with me. What are you going to accomplish?"

"The train is going to arrive soon," Peter said. "Go! You never know, I might make some headway."

"Peter-"

"_Go_!"

Edmund sighed and walked towards the front door, grabbing keys as he did so. When he went to turn the knob he turned around and glanced at Peter one last time. "Are you going to meet us there?"

"Yes," Peter said. "Wait for me. I'll see you there."

By the time Edmund had made it outside, where it was a wonderful end-of-summer's day, Peter was already on his way back to the kitchen to make an important phone call.

* * *

"Susan, this is your last chance. Edmund is already on his way to the station and I'm to meet him there."

"That's wonderful for Edmund," said Susan, her voice taut. "I'm not going."

"Not even just to see everyone again?" Peter asked, trying not to let a note a desperation slip into his voice.

"I know what you lot will start talking about," Susan told him. "You don't think I'm actually going to sit there and listen to it. I know you'll try and get me to go along, but I'm not even going to get involved."

Peter sighed. Sometimes his sister was impossible. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," she said.

"Well, then, I…" Peter found himself quite unsure of what to say, or how to end. He always hated saying goodbye to Susan because he never knew when they would next talk. It was quite frustrating.

Susan finished the job for him. "Goodbye, Peter."

Before Peter could say his own goodbye Susan had already hung up.

* * *

The platform was full of people and the rings felt heavy in Edmund's pocket. He wished Peter was here so that he would at least have someone to talk to, someone to distract him. It was not so. He was left to his own devices, waiting for a train, with magical rings heavy in his pocket serving as a constant temptation.

He checked his watch. The train would be here soon. He wondered how long the phone conversation would last and whether Peter could convince Susan to come. He wondered if Susan ever wanted to go back to Narnia like they did, or whether it hurt her too much to think about it…or whether she really did think it all wasn't real.

It didn't matter what Susan thought. Edmund knew Narnia was real. It didn't make having the rings any easier, but it did give Edmund some comfort that everything he and his family experienced hadn't been a dream. Sometimes it was harder to believe, but when one had company to believe with things got easier.

A distant rumbling sound caught Edmund's attention and he looked up to see a train rounding the bend. He thought it was Lucy's train, and then he thought that the train was going too fast to stop. That wasn't all. Something about the train, and the way it was moving, was all _wrong_. And it was coming closer and closer and he couldn't quite put his finger on it but he knew it all the same and then…

And then there was a bang and a burst of light followed by darkness and pain.

* * *

_There has been a railway accident._

Peter had to get to the hospital. He _had_ to. He was driving like a mad man and perhaps he was one, but it didn't matter because the train with Lucy and the Professor and Polly and Eustace and Jill and possibly even his parents had crashed into the platform, where Edmund likely had been at the time, and it was very possible that everyone was…

_No_.

But he knew he ought to go home first and call Susan, tell her to meet him there. It was because she had a right to know, but also because he wasn't sure he could face this on his own.

He pulled into the driveway of the house and rushed inside, into the kitchen. He picked up the phone and dialled. While it rang, he fervently prayed that Susan would pick up and that she would agree to come with him. If not, he might just have to drag Susan down to the hospital himself.

"Hello?"

Shocked, Peter came out of his thoughts. "Susan!" he breathed, nearly sinking to the ground in relief.

"Peter?" Susan asked, sounding concerned. "Are you okay? You sound upset about something."

"Susan," Peter repeated. He wasn't sure how to say the words that he needed to so that Susan could know. He never imagined it would be so hard. He took a deep breath and plunged onward, knowing that after this everything would change, "There's been a train crash. The train…that Lucy and the others were on crashed into the platform. I arrived just as they were starting to pull people out. It looked…horrible." There were wet spots on his cheeks. He angrily wiped them away.

On the other end of the line was silence. Peter was going to call his sister's name again to see if she was there when he heard a small gasp, and then another. Then, "Are they okay?" It was barely audible.

"I-I don't know," Peter admitted. "We have to go to the hospital and find out. Will you come with me?"

They both would rather do anything but this, yet there was no one else to do it. They had to. Susan's tears made their way into her voice as she answered, "Yes."

* * *

It was a disaster, a tragedy. There were no miracles here, no wonderful stories of people who had been uninjured by sheer luck. None of that.

Peter sat in the waiting room, staring straight ahead. His left hand was on top of Susan's right, and hers felt terribly cold. The whole building was cold and he shivered, thinking of the days ahead, of the months, of the _lifetime_ he had to face.

His father, his mother, Eustace, Jill, the Professor, Polly, and _Lucy_…all dead. It didn't make sense. Why should they be taken all at once…and why were Peter and Susan left behind to clean up the mess that resulted? It was unbearable to think about it, about the number of loved ones lost to them all at the same time.

And yet…

Peter supposed he ought to be thankful, but it was hard. Edmund was alive, but barely. He had been severely injured when the train hit the platform and was now in the hospital. The doctors were 'doing everything we can' to keep him alive. That was their focus. Whether he returned to normal or not was a question held back for later, when Edmund's life was not in constant danger of being lost.

The hand on top of Susan's clenched tighter.

They didn't have much to be thankful for. Their family and friends were all dead. There were funerals to plan, things to take care of, grief to try and move on from, memories that kept coming to the forefront of their minds at the worst times…

But, for now, Edmund was alive…


	2. Finding Out

**Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you is a thing that I do not own. Those things belong to C.S. Lewis. **

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**_Six months later…_

The house had not really been lived in for months, but that was going to change.

Peter had spent the last six months at funerals, working, visiting Edmund at the hospital, and doing all manner of things to avoid having to be alone in this house. He considered asking to stay with Susan at one point, but Susan had her own life and Susan had a boyfriend who liked to come over to comfort her, even if Susan was not in the mood. He wasn't sure if she would like his presence.

They pulled up to the house and Peter glanced sideways at his brother, who was silent. They hadn't talked much in the past few months, both preferring to deal with their grief as they would. Peter had tried to have 'closure', as they called it, during the funerals, but it was hard. His parents' and Lucy's, held at the same time, were the worst.

_The sun was brilliantly shining and Peter wanted to tell it to stop. This was no time for a nice day—this was a funeral. It was his family's funeral. In a way, he felt like this was also _his_ funeral. _

_Holes in the earth…where his family would be buried. They were all next to each other, in a line—Lucy, his mother, and his father. Susan was standing next to him, stiff and pale and unable to wrench her eyes from the newly dug gravesites. It was horrible to watch and Peter felt sick as he saw the caskets lowered and the dirt shovelled back over them. And suddenly everyone was gone, having left without Peter or Susan's notice. _

"_Do you think…they're in Aslan's country?" Peter ventured. He wanted to know that, at the very least, they were safe. _

_Susan's response came in the form of a small sob. Peter turned to her, but she turned and began to walk swiftly away. Peter again faced the new graves. _

_There were three roses in his hands, the stems a bit mangled from how tightly he had been clasping them. He walked slowly to each grave and delicately placed a rose over the dirt covering the caskets. He paused for a bit over Lucy's. _

"_I hope you're with Him," he murmured. _

_There was no answer, and he half didn't expect one. He was left with no other choice but to walk away, empty handed. _

Peter and Edmund exited the car. Edmund, after spending six months in the hospital, still had difficulty moving about. It was a bit painful for him to walk, so they had given him a cane. ("I suppose I'm old now," he had said upon receiving it.) His doctors said that he might not need the cane in time, but he would always have a limp.

Slowly, they made their way to the front door. Though neither would say it, both brothers wished they didn't have to go in. There were too many memories, and they threatened to break any progress made so far.

Still, Peter turned the key and opened the door and they ended up inside a moment later. Edmund had a bag slung over his shoulder of clothes and books and various things brought to the hospital in the months he was there.

Peter watched his younger brother move towards the stairs and wished he could know what Edmund was thinking. They hadn't talked much in the past months. At first, Edmund had been confused upon waking, and the doctors said that he had been injured in the head and it was likely he would be confused. He still seemed a bit out of sorts, but Peter thought it had more to do with the actual accident than anything else.

It had been particularly hard to tell Edmund that his family was dead, and Peter and Susan waited a few days after he'd woken up. He had missed the funerals, having been unconscious until the week after (not to mention the months after he awoke spent in the hospital), and he hadn't known. Actually, he didn't remember the accident or the entire week beforehand. What spurred Peter and Susan to tell him was when he began to ask where Lucy and his parents were.

"_What?" _

_Peter fought the urge to run from the room. Instead he faced his brother, who was staring back at him looking pale and shocked. _

_Susan shook her head. "We shouldn't have told him," she said. "He can't even sit up and we've told him this horrible thing…" _

"_They're _dead_?" Edmund cried, eyes moving from Peter to Susan and back, trying to find any hint of a lie that he wished was there. _

"_Yes," Peter said. It had been the hardest thing in the world to tell Edmund the first time. He didn't want to have to do it again. _

"_Why?" Edmund asked, his voice breaking. _

"_It was a bad accident," Susan started. _

"_No!" Edmund snapped. "I know that. But—it isn't fair. Why am I alive and why are they not?"_

_Susan shook her head. Peter put a hand on Edmund's arm. Edmund was shaking. _

"_And," he continued, his voice become more and more unsteady, "I missed their funeral. I didn't have the chance to say goodbye…I-" Unable to stand it, Peter enveloped Edmund in a fierce hug. He felt Susan's arms wrap around his as they both tried to comfort their younger brother. _

_Edmund suddenly began to sob. Peter had tears running down his own face and Susan was crying. It was scary—they all had been relatively good at keeping their emotions in check. But this, this was too much. This was the sound of their hearts breaking._

_It wasn't known how long they stayed that way. Peter could hardly remember anything after. He only remembered wishing it didn't have to be this way. _

An hour later, Peter decided to check on his brother, who had retreated to their old room. Now, Peter was the owner of the house, and it had been suggested to him that he sell it. He didn't want to, and he felt that it would be the place where his siblings could come if they needed to. There was, after all, more than enough room.

Edmund was sitting on his bed, staring out the window. Peter sat down next to him. He saw the sadness within his younger brother's eyes and put a gentle hand on Edmund's shoulder.

"At least they're with Aslan now," Peter said. He felt relieved to say it, because he hadn't been able to mention it out of courtesy to Susan while Edmund was in the hospital. And he hadn't had the chance to talk about this with his brother. "Do you suppose…it's anything like Narnia?" He glanced sideways.

Edmund looked confused. "Narnia?" he repeated, and the word sounded more foreign than it ought to have coming from him.

"Yes," Peter said, frowning. "Narnia…and Aslan. Were you listening?"

"Of course I was," Edmund said. He looked up at Peter and there was a blank look in his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie," Peter said before he could stop himself.

Suddenly his younger brother looked angry. "I'm not lying," he snapped. "Why are you talking about something I don't even know about?"

Peter felt a horrible fear seize his heart. "I don't know," he said, his voice sounding a bit odd. "I…I'll go fix dinner." He left the room as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. As he closed the door behind him one thought nearly made him fall to the floor in shock and despair. It was the last thing he ever wanted to happen.

_Edmund doesn't remember Narnia. _


	3. Delivery

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, and C.S. Lewis owns all. **

**Author's Note: Sorry about the delay! School's been a bit hard, and we're in high gear for finals. In fact, a new rule has been put into practice: we must work 'til the last day, no movies, no relaxation, nothing. So says the head of the school. Anyway, summer should be better for updating. And on a fun note, I used The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in an essay on the AP English test. Hopefully it worked. **

**Anyway, thank you for all the patience and thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy!  
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Peter did not try to talk to Edmund about Narnia again. The next day he fell to the task of telling Susan—no easy thing, considering how Susan felt about Narnia.

Once Susan welcomed him into her flat Peter had her sit down. He sat across from her at the kitchen table and said, "I have something a bit difficult to tell you."

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "Edmund has forgotten Narnia."

An odd expression passed over Susan's face, as though she was trying to contain some emotion. It took her a while to respond, and when she did her voice sounded strained. "How do you know?"

"I…er…I told him that the others were in Aslan's country and I asked if he thought it was anything like Narnia."

"What did he say?" she asked, breathless.

"He said he didn't know what I was talking about," Peter answered, his voice miserable, "and when I told him to stop lying he snapped at me and said he wasn't. I didn't press him from there."

"How do you think it happened?" Susan asked.

Peter looked up, surprised that Susan cared so much, or at least that she hadn't condemned Peter for bringing up Narnia, or shown joy that Edmund had forgotten their 'childhood game.'

"Well, he doesn't remember the week before the accident," Peter said. "I think there might be certain things he doesn't remember, and Narnia is one of them."

Susan nodded.

"What should we do?" Peter asked.

Susan thought for a moment and her expression hardened. "Don't mention Narnia again."

Peter knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but given Susan's rather tame reaction to the news in the first place, he found that he was. "Why not?"

"Because," Susan said. She hesitated, frustrated, and glared at Peter. "You _know_ why."

"That is only your opinion," Peter said.

"Don't tell him," Susan repeated. She paused, then added, "And even if you did, do you think he would believe you?"

Peter looked away. If there was a reason he wouldn't tell Edmund about Narnia, _that_ was it. He was afraid that Edmund, given the full story, wouldn't believe any of it.

*

While Peter was out, the doorbell rang.

Luckily, Edmund was already downstairs. He made his way, slowly, to the door and opened it to find a stranger standing there, holding a brown package.

"Can I help you?" Edmund asked.

The man nodded. "This package is to be delivered to Edmund Pevensie."

"That's me," Edmund said. The man held out the package, which Edmund took. It wasn't particularly heavy. "Do you know what's inside?"

"No," the man answered. "It came from the hospital. Good day."

Edmund wished the man a good day and closed the door. He then proceeded to bring the package to his room.

For a moment, Edmund imagined what could possibly be inside without actually making a move to open it. He sat on the bed, alone. He was a bit glad that Peter wasn't home, especially in the wake of yesterday's conversation.

The words Peter had mentioned as if he should know them well, Narnia and Aslan, were completely foreign. But they sounded…special, in some way. Edmund wished he knew what they were, and at the same time he wasn't sure he wanted to know. What if it was a bunch of nonsense Peter had made up to get through his grief? He had said Lucy and their parents were in Aslan's country. Did he mean, in some odd way, to say heaven?

Edmund shook his head and decided it best to forget the whole incident. He took the package into his hands and opened it.

Torn clothes came out. They had been washed, but some dark stains remained in the khaki trousers, blue sweater, and dark shirt. Edmund picked up the sweater and put it aside before doing the same with the shirt, scrutinizing it as well before putting it down.

They were completely beyond saving. They were from the day of the accident.

_Why would they give me back my destroyed clothing?_ Edmund picked up the trousers and was surprised that they felt a bit heavy. He turned them round and round, before feeling a lump in one of the pockets. He reached inside and pulled out keys and a small box.

He discarded the keys. The box looked unfamiliar. Edmund turned it around, looking for a clue as to what could be inside. He wondered why he had been carrying it in his pocket the day of the accident. He opened it.

There were two rings, simple, but both different colours. One was yellow. One was green. Both gave Edmund a foreboding feeling, but he couldn't tell why. He wanted to touch the rings, but something was urging him not to.

Yet the rings were tempting him so…

Quickly, Edmund closed the box, and then mentally slapped himself. He wondered why he was being so silly about two little rings. He supposed they must have meant something. But why should he feel like touching them was wrong?

He wondered if he ought to tell Peter, but then another thought came into his head. Did Peter feel the same way about the rings? Would Peter mention Narnia again, or something even more odd and foreign to Edmund? The rings did seem to give him the same feelings he had when thinking about Narnia: they meant something, he was sure, but they were completely out of his scope of memory.

Sighing, Edmund put the rings under his pillow. He would wait and see how things worked out between him and Peter. Until then, the rings would remain untouched.

Out of sight, they were far less tempting.


	4. Severance

**Disclaimer: I do not own those things recognisable. They belong to C.S. Lewis. **

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**For the next few days, everyone tried to return to normal.

Of course, they all realised this was impossible, because life wasn't normal. Nothing Peter could do would make things as they were before the train accident. He could not bring back the dead, he could not resolve the problems with Susan, and he could not heal Edmund of his injuries. The only thing Peter really could do was pretend.

Edmund remained rather elusive. He hadn't been at university at all this school year. As a result, he had most of his things at home, and he was reading them and attempting to study. The two brothers tried to talk, but conversation was rather awkward and no one knew exactly what to talk about.

One day, while Edmund was downstairs, Peter decided to go into their old room. He usually slept in Susan and Lucy's old room, since he had the feeling that Edmund might want privacy. Several times he had tried to get Edmund to talk about the actual accident, but Edmund didn't want to. He was never one to admit weakness, and he hated showing it. Peter had had this problem before with him. He understood, though, because oftentimes he had done the same thing.

A small pile of clothes caught Peter's attention on his old bed. He went over and picked them up. They were torn and tattered and stained. Peter frowned as he held them up, and wondered aloud, "Why would Edmund want these?"

He turned the ruined clothing in his hands to get a better look at one of the stains, and then grimaced. It was a reddish brown. It dawned on him. "_Oh_."

These were Edmund's clothes from the accident.

Peter held them still for a moment, thinking. Had Edmund been upset by them? Did he want to keep them? Would he be angry that Peter found them?

There was another question that forced its way to the front of Peter's mind: What of the rings?

Edmund had them the day of the accident.

Suddenly, Peter felt a sense of hope. He plunged his hand into the pocket of Edmund's trousers and came up empty. He tried the second pocket, with the same result. He checked the jumper and the shirt, and nothing was there.

Sighing, overwhelmed by disappointment, Peter sank down onto the bed. He tossed the clothes aside, almost carelessly. But the real problem was, he cared too much.

Staring at Edmund's empty bed, Peter wondered if the rings had been destroyed or if they had simply disappeared. Or…did Edmund know about them?

Heart racing, Peter stood up and made up his mind: he would ask Edmund.

He practically ran downstairs and found Edmund in the kitchen, immersed in a book. Peter slid into a seat across from him, barely containing his anxiousness. He tapped on the table a few times and Edmund looked up.

"So," Peter started, slowly, "I see that you've gotten your clothes back. You know, the ones from the day of the accident."

Edmund's face clouded over for a second, and Peter wondered if he was going to get angry. But he only said, "Oh. How did you know?"

"I was just in our old room," Peter said, "and I saw them on the bed."

Edmund nodded. He played with one of the pages of his book and looked away for a moment. When he looked back up at his brother, he was frowning. "I might just throw them away. They're ruined."

"You can do that," Peter said. He bit his lip, wondering exactly how to ask his question. Finally, he said, "Do you know why you were at the station that day?"

"I was there to pick up Lucy and the others, wasn't I?"

"Yes."

"That's what you told me." Edmund looked confused.

"I did," Peter said, with a nod. "I might have left some details out, though. You know, I remember you were carrying some things with you when you left the house."

"My keys, maybe?" Edmund said, but his frown deepened.

"Well, those," Peter said, "but something else as well. That day, I gave you a box. In the box were rings."

"What do they look like?" Edmund asked.

"One was yellow and one was green."

Edmund seemed to think for a moment. He glanced down at his book, then up at Peter. For a moment Peter wondered why he would need to think for so long. Then—"Why did you give them to me?"

_Oh_, Peter thought, _he doesn't remember_.

Aloud, he said, "We were supposed to meet Lucy at the station with the rings. I was to go with you, but at the last minute you had to go ahead of me, so I gave you the rings."

"What were they for?"

"They were…" Peter hesitated. He couldn't say anything about Narnia, because Edmund had no clue about Narnia. Finally, he settled on, "They were special to me."

"And you want them back," Edmund concluded, in a tone that suggested he felt Peter hadn't really answered the question.

Peter nodded again and leaned forward. "Right. Have you seen them?"

Edmund seemed to be watching him very carefully. He pursed his lips for a moment and looked as though he was trying to find the right words to say. "I'm sorry Peter," he finally said, sighing. "I wish I knew where they were, but I think they might have been lost in the accident. The only thing I got back besides my clothes were my keys."

"Your keys," Peter repeated, settling back into his chair as the disappointment washed over him. "Well, these things…should be expected. It was a terrible accident. Naturally, the rings must have been destroyed. Or lost, even."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Edmund said again, looking as though he, too, was suffering from a loss, even if he didn't remember the rings.

"It's fine," Peter said. "I should have expected it. And anyway, this is probably for the best."

"How so?" Edmund asked.

"Well, the rings would have had me dwelling in the past, and I really oughtn't do that." Peter stood. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Edmund nodded, and they both knew that Edmund wouldn't need Peter. Still, Edmund looked a bit sad to see Peter go, and Peter almost wished that his younger brother would need him. He felt the need to be, well, needed.

And in addition, Peter needed the rings. Until now, he hadn't realised how tempting those rings were. Had Edmund had them, Peter would have, in all likelihood, tried to use them to get to Narnia, or even to anywhere else. Anywhere that his siblings might be. And of course he would have taken Edmund, even if Edmund knew nothing about what the rings did.

But would it have been the right thing to do? Peter wasn't sure, but then again, he didn't think the death of his family was right. He didn't think Edmund not remembering was right. He didn't think Susan pretending not to remember was right, either.

All he knew was that those rings had been the last link to his dead family, and now, finally, the last link had been severed.


	5. Out In the Open

**Disclaimer: I am not C.S. Lewis and I did not write the Chronicles of Narnia.**

**Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait! There are really only two reasons for this. The first was that this chapter and the fourth one had some discontinuity that I had to fix, and then I wanted to write a bit ahead in order to prevent that in the future. Then I got, ah, distracted by both other muses and an incompetent school. Anyway, thanks for waiting! And special thanks to rolletti for reminding me to post! Enjoy! :)**

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**Before the accident, Susan did not spend much time with Peter and Edmund. She still didn't, but she had spent _more_ time with them than previously. This day, she came to the house to find Peter out and Edmund alone in the kitchen, reading.

"Hello," she called out, walking over and taking a seat across the table from him.

Edmund looked up and put his book down. "I didn't know you were coming today."

"I didn't know either," Susan admitted. "I just decided to stop by and see how you two were doing. How _are_ you doing?"

"Fine," Edmund said.

"Good." Susan took a deep breath, feeling awkward. "So…"

Edmund suddenly sat up straight. "Susan," he said, not quite meeting her gaze, "If I asked you about something rather…confusing…would you listen?"

"Of course I would listen," Susan said. "Go ahead, ask me."

"Well, I don't think this is real, but Peter mentioned it to me and I wanted to know what he was talking about. Where is Narnia, and who is Aslan?"

Susan paled. "What?"

Edmund noticed her reaction and immediately looked apologetic. "Have I said something wrong?"

"No, no," Susan stammered, but she was still pale and Edmund noticed that she wasn't quite herself.

Truthfully, quite a few things were going through Susan's mind at that very moment. She hadn't been expected to be confronted by these questions. Yes, Peter had told her that Edmund had forgotten about Narnia. But never had it entered her mind that Edmund would turn to her, of all people, to find out about the things he had forgotten. His having forgotten hadn't seemed like a reality until this very moment. But now he was sitting across from her and the truth was right there in his voice, in the confusion on his face. It was making her feel something she would rather not feel. Something like grief that he didn't remember, and she was angry because she wanted to feel nothing of the sort concerning Narnia and Aslan.

Interrupting her thoughts, Edmund asked, "Do you not know what I'm talking about?"

"I know what you're talking about," Susan managed, her voice shaking. "You used to know, as well."

Edmund paled. "I did?"

"Yes," Susan said, "and I don't believe I'm the best person to talk to about the whole thing."

"Why not?" Edmund asked, suddenly frustrated. "You know, don't you?"

"I know what he's talking about," Susan told him. "That doesn't mean I believe him."

"What do you mean, you don't believe him?" Edmund asked. "Aren't you certain? If Narnia is a place and Aslan a person and Peter knows them as things that exist, aren't they real?"

"Are they?" Susan countered. "Do you believe in God?"

"Yes, Susan," Edmund said, getting impatient. "Look, that doesn't matter. I just want to know what place this Narnia is and who Aslan is."

"It does matter," Susan said. "Not everyone believes in God. Sometimes, you can't believe in things that aren't proven to be real."

"What are you saying?"

"Think of Narnia and Aslan as something similar to God."

Edmund groaned. "Susan, please, all I want is for you to tell me what those things are."

Susan hated Peter for having brought Narnia up. She hated that Edmund didn't remember, and that now it was up to her, apparently, to tell him. Only she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Edmund, if you keep asking me to tell you, I will leave and not come back."

"What?" Edmund looked shocked, and then angry. "What did I do? You can't act like this and not give me an explanation as to why! Do you think I want to make you angry?"

"No!" Susan cried, feeling all the more frustrated because her brother was right. "I don't want that, but I can't give you what you need. I don't want to talk about this anymore. If you want to know, you can ask Peter."

They both lapsed into silence, breathing heavily. Susan's breath was hitching as she tried to keep her frustrated tears at bay. Edmund, across from her, was pale and shaking.

"I feel as if I've forgotten something important," he murmured.

"It isn't your fault," Susan told him, trying to be comforting.

Edmund took a deep, shuddering breath. "Susan?"

"Yes." She couldn't keep the apprehension out of her voice.

"Peter also asked me about some rings. He asked if I had gotten them back along with my clothes from the day of the accident." He paused to check if his sister was taking this well. Susan was, indeed, taking it well enough, for she hadn't begun to look angry. She was, however, curious, and she motioned for him to continue. "He said I was to meet Lucy with them at the station and that they were special to him. He wouldn't tell me what they were for, and I can't remember." He glanced at her, expectantly.

Susan felt even more perplexed. She didn't remember a thing about rings, and she didn't know why Peter would want them after the accident. She shook her head. "I haven't the slightest idea what those rings are. I've never heard of any sort of rings Peter might need."

"Oh." Edmund glanced down and bit his lip.

"Do you have them?" Susan asked.

Edmund hesitated, clenching his hands. He seemed to be doing some thinking. Finally, he answered, almost unwillingly, "Yes."

"But you told Peter…"

"I told him I didn't have them," Edmund said, "and you can't tell him, either. I didn't like lying to him and I don't know why I did, and I don't know why I'm still doing it. I just feel that…I should keep them until I figure out why they're so special."

"I won't tell him," Susan assured him, knowing that it was really all she could help him with. She quite suddenly stood up, her head full of things about Peter and the mysterious rings and Narnia and Aslan, and she was quite overwhelmed. "I'm going to go back…home. Do have a good day, okay?"

Edmund nodded. "It was nice talking to you." He sounded rather melancholy and Susan didn't blame him, considering he hadn't gotten anything except a fight out of their conversation.

Still, Susan gave him a small smile, as if everything had been wrapped up neatly rather than left a mess, and walked out. As she came into the fresh air she muttered to herself, "He might not know about the rings, but I intend to find out."


End file.
